


Let Me Hear Your Desire

by Flowers_n_Dragons



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Bratty Jaskier | Dandelion, Edgeplay, Exhibitionism, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Fuckbuddies, Fucking, Love Bites, M/M, Marking, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Toussaint (The Witcher), Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowers_n_Dragons/pseuds/Flowers_n_Dragons
Summary: Geralt gets back from his hunt, his toxicity fuelling his hunger for the pert ass of the bard.Jaskier is more than willing to help. He does not lose his mischievousness, however.Or watch these two idiots/friends fuck each other senseless, growing more intimate and developing feels, maybe? Also, some semblance of plot/character development/romance....But mostly porn.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 32
Kudos: 342





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My brain supplied a prompt with Geralt and Jaskier getting it on, with gratuitous voice kink and some bite kink thrown in for good measure. And after they start their strictly sexual liaisons, they grow intimate, and finally....  
> Oh well. It was supposed to be a fun little piece. EDIT now it has 4 chapters because I needed the feels, and setting, and a bratty Jaskier being himself, and sex in a window, and of course feeelz among other things.... And 5000+ views! I would have never thought this fic would become my most popular one... And yet, here we are! Thank you and I am glad you all enjoy this naughty product of my imagination. I have promised a 5th chapter before, I believe, and I will deliver it, I just have been.... Disturbed by all these other ideas that had to be written... ;)  
> Also, as usual, there are TAD references because they are still.... Amazing. Can't wait for a new song ; it's been a year since the second album came out, it is high time! :).

"What do you want?"

Pure curiosity and a smidge of hope in the lilt of his otherwise resolute voice, Jaskier stared at the witcher's black-and-white countenance; eyes of onyx, skin ashen, veins crisscrossing its surface like ebony roots. Others may have recoiled, may have called him ghastly or monstrous in that state of toxicity, but not he. He found him fascinating, wondrous and bizarrely and dangerously sexy. A predator of the night.

Jaskier was already prey, trapped against the dirty tavern wall, where he had been yanked against just moments ago by the witcher who was obviously still high on adrenaline and the toxins surging through his veins. The witcher snarled at him, his whole form a cage around the smaller man. He could hear the thumps of his heartbeat, the creak of the leather plates against each other as he closed in on him even more, arms around his head, hips already but a hair's breadth away. His ragged, heavy breathing had Jaskier start panting similarly. Rivulets of sweat trickled down flushed skin; he'd just finished entertaining the good people of the tavern for the night when Geralt stomped in and literally swept him off the stage . 

And here they were.

A large hand flew down to squeeze Jaskier's bottom, leaving no doubt as to the intentions of its owner.

"This." 

Jaskier hissed. 

FINALLY. 

He flashed his eyebrow at the other. 

"Catch me if you can, then."

He ducked under the thick arms and slid out of the trap in a fluid motion , the silk of his shirt whispering a promise against the leather armor. 

His quick steps thumping on the creaking boards were hunting drums in the witcher's ears. 

The bard did not have a chance (nor did he want any). The heavy footfalls, the creaking of leather over the hubbub and the hum of the tavern were quickly approaching from behind. He rounded a corner. His ears picked up the slightly labored huffs and puffs. A couple more leaps, then a hand grabbing him at the waist. He couldn't suppress his yelp.

They tumbled into a room. 

It wasn't theirs. 

Neither cared. 

Geralt manhandled Jaskier onto the bed that groaned when the bard's body hit it hard. 

A slamming of the door. A screech of heavy wood sliding on wood. A chair? A table? 

Jaskier looked up. 

The room was shrouded in darkness. He couldn't see anything.

"Got you." 

He shuddered at the desire-laden, velvet-deep tone. 

Stomps and creaks. 

Geralt was over him again. Flipped him onto all fours, like he weighed nothing. 

His trousers were yanked down, an unpleasant tug and burn on his flesh. The waistline dug into his calf, numbing. His braies rasped a violent complaint as they were ripped from his body. The air of the room hit his bare bottom unpleasantly, but he did not have time to get cold for the witcher was right against it in a second.

He hissed again as a long,thick and - sweet Melitele! - wet cock slid against his crack. 

His eyes rolled into his head. He slumped down, ass still up in the air, relishing in feeling the weight and the silky smooth texture of that shaft, his skin drenched with what he supposed was a mix of some slick balm and precome; the coarse pubes bristling, and the witcher-hot breeches still covering the thighs sticking to his sweaty skin. He had his folded arms under his head; the sheets sighed and creaked softly as they were crumpled under duress.

He heard Geralt's panting grow more labored as he continued his delicious teasing of his crack; his mouth began to tingle from the disuse; he kissed his own delicate inner forearm using lips and quite a bit of tongue, imagining kissing Geralt's perfect cupid's bow mouth and blowing that gorgeous cock in a cacophony of erratically interchanging fantasies. At this point, his own cock was throbbing and straining, begging for the slightest friction. His hand came to its rescue, hips taking up the rhythm of Geralt' s thrusts, driving the leaking hardness into his fist, the eager fap-fap-fap joining the squelch and slap of their nigh-coupling. 

Geralt was lost to his visceral need to fuck away the energy still in him after a luckily way too easy monster hunt. The sight that was presented only for his eyes coupled with the sounds and the sweet and salty smell of HIS bard brought out the overwhelming desire to claimclaimclaim. He withdrew his cock, earning a needy gasp that was music to his ears. He groaned at the debauched picture of the hard peach of Jaskier's cheeks, plenty slick and slimy, with his otherwise secret opening now not so discreetly staring right back at him. He slickened his finger with the balm he used for his member as well; a very effective slick he paid good price for, but was worth every coin, as it was easy to carry in its tiny tin box and more importantly, a tiny dollop of it provided marvelous, long-lasting lubrication. Geralt teased the pucker in front of him, his willing prey pushing back in tiny thrusts and circles, greedy for the stimulus. Then he pushed in his index, halfway. 

The resounding 'Aaaaahhhh' from the bard's lips made him go absolutely wild. He began working him, prying, stretching, thrusting, then after a while downright fucking the hot and smooth hole with one, then two and finally, three fingers. The ahs and oooohs of the man under him grew loud, almost into shouts. Then he whimpered :

"Please. More." 

"Take it, then." 

That was all he replied ; he plunged into the awaiting, sweet little hole. They cried out in a duet of passion. Some sense of gentleness began to creep back into the toxin- and lust-addled brain of the witcher and he held himself still, allowing the other to get used to the intrusion. He was whimpering under him, a most beautiful melody, chock - full of want and desperation. In reply, he dug all his fingernails deep into the flesh of those delectable cheeks, the sight of the dimples and red marks pleasing to the animalistic parts of his mind. Jaskier couldn't contain himself, barking a hoarse 'YES, FUCK', buckling under him.

That made him lose the last remnants of control. He began thrusting, deep and slow for only a couple paces, to test the stretch and the slickness. He deemed them adequate. So he picked up the pace, not bothering with keeping it gradual ; he went from languid to lust-crazed in five thrusts, short, deep ah's inadvertently leaping through the fence of his teeth.

Jaskier held on for dear life, wailing yet still meeting the brutal thrusts, the slapping and creaking and above all the visceral panting of Geralt creating a spectacular symphony of sin. His backside was going numb, his ass burned, his skin was pouring out sweat, his cock could not get enough of his own hand's strokes. Every muscle in his body went tense, his release closing in on him fast, but it didn't catch up to him just yet. 

With a guttural howl, Geralt swooped down to his shoulder blade, and not minding the fabric of the shirt separating him from the coveted piece of skin under, he bit down hard. The sudden jolt of pain along with the weight of the witcher against his back did it. Wave upon wave of orgasmic bliss swept through him, his spend drenching his hand and the sheets under him. Geralt pulled out, his own cum spurting out in thick ropes against the hard, well-pounded cheeks as he grunted his pleasure against the saliva-stained shirt, still not letting go with his teeth. 

As the spasms and shocks degraded to a warm, tingly buzz, Geralt got off Jaskier's back, cleaned him up perfunctorily with the corner of the sheet, and carefully pulled his breeches up, then did the same for himself. Jaskier was still dazed from the frantic coupling topped with a mind-blowing orgasm, any movement seemingly impossible. He muttered a weak "thanks" after being cared for and promptly fell asleep. 

Geralt slumped down on the bed, sitting right next to him. His countenance was back to normal, the toxins having finally burnt down during their carnal activities. He looked down at the sleeping form, frowned and then couldn't help himself: his mouth twitched into a tiniest of smiles. Then with a heavy sigh accompanied by a grunt of a creak from the furniture, he got to his feet and sauntered out the room to have a very uncomfortable talk with the innkeeper, cursing inwardly about why he let the bard, who had all the words and charisma for such delicate situations, pass out just like that.


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you want?"

Jaskier asked as he raised his eyes from the lute; he bore his azure gaze into Geralt's amber one. 

This has become a habitual question of his after that first time. It wasn't like he didn't know what Geralt wanted; he noticed the raw hunger contorting his features as his eyes raked across Jaskier's body, making the bard hard in his breeches and weak in the knees instantly. Yet he needed him to say the words. Or rather, as it was often the case, just the one.

"Want to fuck you, " he rumbled. 

Four words. A promising improvement. 

"Hard", he added and already was halfway out his armor, his fingers flopping belts and clinking buckles with finesse, boots stomping thunderously as he closed in on the bed. 

Oh. A fifth. Using adverbs now, very nice. 

Jaskier assessed his cleanliness in one glimpse and was relieved to find his state of hygiene passable ; will need a good soak later, he noted as the scouting for that griffin contract still had Geralt come back to him sweaty and mildly grimed up, but well within the realm of sexy. 

Besides, he wanted to be fucked; it wasn't exactly a one-sided thing, their trysts, and he reassured Geralt after their first time that yes, he was very happy, even eager to help him in this particular area. Geralt insisted it was the fight and the potions making him do it. It could have been the truth before. However, there had been no fight this night ; still, the witcher had already divested himself of his armor and boots with sonorous clangs and clatters, his stare, which was full of delicious promises, never leaving Jaskier. He also was precautious enough to move the oil lamp farther from the bed, to the top of a dresser on the opposite side of the room. 

The bard was certain that what was to come would be hard and fast, even frantic. He didn't mind. Oh, no, very much to the contrary; he loved how his witcher pounded his ass so he was numbed outside and in, for days. He leapt up pushed the end table, making it screech terribly, as far from the bed as possible and put his lute to safety there. Scrambling back on the bed, he hardly had time to get on all fours and pull down his breeches halfway ; Geralt practically pounced on him, grinding his clothed erection against his backside. Jaskier reacted momentarily; he was moaning and pushing back rhythmically, eyes closed; the bed frame creaked in a matching staccato. 

"Take your clothes off", came a booming order as Geralt withdrew. 

Jaskier's eyes flew open; now this was new. They had never bothered with getting naked previously. He obliged quite willingly, sending his garments swishing through the air, making them form unruly puddles of fabric around the bed. He more or less remained in his position, movements practical; he did not bother with putting on a show, as he heard Geralt making quick work of his leathers, smalls and his shirt, all landing with soft thuds on the ground. 

Jaskier did, however, turn his head around to behold his witcher in all his naked glory. His tongue darted out to wet his lips; Geralt's already straining and leaking cock was right at eye level, in the very center of his formidable bulk that was lit from behind, a silhouette of a sex-god, all aroused for and because of him. 

"Do you like what you see, bard?" he growled as he scrambled closer on his knees, the bed sighing underneath the pressure. 

"Oh yes, very. I'd much rather feel it in me, and right now would be a good time too." 

Geralt smirked at that cheeky and horny reply. " Let me feel you first."

Jaskier didn't quite catch what Geralt meant; but in a moment, it became crystal clear: two large, warm, sword-hardened hands swept across his torso, from his arsecheeks traveling up his slim waist and then drawing paths of goosebumps on the wide plane of his back, shoulders, stopping with fingers gently splayed across the side of his neck, the tips just brushing his hairline, then going right back in a similarly sensual fashion to massage his firm bottom.

Jaskier wanted to purr as he melted into the caresses. As he couldn't, he settled with needy hunnnnnnns, his bottom lips caught between teeth, clamping down hard.

The gentleness didn't last long. Having felt Jaskier's strong, supple body under his palms, along with the reactions from him, he snapped, his visceral instincts to possess overwhelming his brain and body. He swiftly lubricated his hands and his right index began its work of loosening the entrance of his partner, his left parting and non-too-gently massaging the peach halves of his cheeks.

Jaskier moaned even louder; he had had considerable experience in this area now so the initial burn quickly faded into pleasure, his channel and its muscles relaxing, opening up for his lover's length (not to mention girth) . Geralt had three fingers pumping in and out of him with force in no time, his own breathing ragged, his teeth aching with the need to bite. Nevertheless, he wanted to savour the anticipation, along with the satisfying act of completion: claiming with cock and mouth simultaneously. 

"Take me already, witcher..." Jaskier whined, bucking like a young stallion, making the bed shake and rattle. He was flushed, sweat beading his skin. 

"As you wish." 

Geralt rasped his reply, then bent forward with incredulous speed and clamped down on the shoulder blades, tasting salt and copper as he drew blood while he sank to the hilt into the tight awaiting hotness. Jaskier screamed his ecstasy into the pillow; Geralt began thrusting furiously, letting go with his teeth, mouth still against skin.

"Fuck so gooooood", his deep, drawling bass resonated in the very marrow of the bard's bones, whose wail jumped up a fifth in response. He muted himself by biting into the thick mass of the pillow, his mind supplying images and possible noises he'd draw from doing that to the flesh of Geralt's shoulders. Not caring for the shaking in his thighs, he willed his hips to dance at the rhythm dictated by his zealous partner.

Only minutes after, their frantic coupling ended violently, with an explosive orgasm for both. Jaskier rolled to the side of the bed, knees drawn up, spend trickling down the downy curls of his furred thighs, his whole body zinging with pleasure, muttering incoherently in between mewls. Geralt slumped down as well, lying on his back, not minding the puddle Jaskier made on the sheet, feeling content and sated, sighing once before quieting. Jaskier also stopped making noises, then his breathing evened out as well. 

Long minutes passed; both remained silent until Geralt spoke up, pulling Jaskier back from the clutches of sleep. 

"Would you like a bath?" 

"Mmmh. Yes, please." 


	3. Chapter 3

"What do you want?"

The question rolled off the tongue of the bard smoothly, almost nonchalantly. To the casual observer, that is. Of that, there were indeed plenty as the party at the palace of Beauclair was at full swing, a flurry of satin-clad nobility milling around the bard and the witcher, who was also clad in a fine doublet of grey, with blue accents, matching Jaskier's eyes, an incessant clamour filling the decorative halls. The former just took a break after his last, long and lively set, gulping down water and switching to wine after one glass, leaning casually against an ornate pillar, regarding the witcher with a flushed face and twinkling eyes whilst sipping his beverage. 

He presumed Geralt wanted him speared on his cock; his intent gaze, his body language and - Sweet Melitele! He almost spit out his mouthful of red as his eyes darted to the other man's erection, valiantly restrained by the steel-grey fabric of his trousers. Geralt was half-heartedly concealing whatever he could with his hands but given the sheer size of him, that was a lost cause. 

Besides his surprise at the degree of attention, Jaskier was altogether immensely smug, topped with a generous helping of self-satisfaction. He would not have dreamed of the effect his perfectly tailored new breeches emphasizing his ass-ets (oh pun very much intended) had on his witcher, coupled with some new, absolutely lewd moves he just had the good fortune of learning during the winter. That did not mean he would make this easy and simple and frankly, boring for his friend-slash-occasional lover.

He gave his lute to his fellow musician for safekeeping as they previously agreed. He scanned his surroundings again, looking for the secret service door concealed in a shadowy corner, masked by the pattern of the wallpaper. He started making his way towards it as indirectly as possible, so as not to alert Geralt too soon, turning back and walking backwards to face the witcher trailing him any time it was his turn in the conversation. 

"You didn't answer, Sir Witcher." 

"Jaskier... I want..." the witcher followed the bard's slow zigzagging across the crowded room. Their movement was not unlike a dance, Jaskier leading confidently, with steps back, to the side, a sashay here, a twirl there, light undulations over his frame following the music, swaying his hips enticingly. He made Geralt's hunting instincts flare up. Which was the goal, actually. 

" Yes? I am all ears. This humble bard wants nothing but to serve... His audience, of which you are a very... prominent member", he smirked, darting his gaze to Geralt's crotch. 

"Shouldn't you be serving Her Grace? What will happen if she finds her lover missing?" That was an educated guess on the witcher's part, based on the short exchange the three of them had at the beginning of the party and the way the two were behaving during the event, not to mention the fact Geralt knew his bard and his proclivities more than well.

He guessed correctly. Jaskier's smile widened, and he nodded as well in appreciation of Geralt's smarts. 

"Oh my observant Witcher. While she takes immense pleasure in having yours truly stroke her delightful.... figure, I daresay dear Anarietta enjoys nothing more than her ego and vanity stroked by all who are surrounding her. Which has been her predicament, as you can very well see and hear for yourself", he nodded toward the Dutchess who was indeed preoccupied with being adored and taken to the dance floor by prospective suitors and other attendees. She clearly had no need of the bard for quite a while. Jaskier continued his dance, taking a couple more steps toward his goal. "So tell me, my dearly missed traveling companion. Or as I like to put it, friend. What do you want?" He was only two arms' reach from that hidden door now. There were some guests milling about, which was actually quite helpful for him. He stopped so his friend would catch up. 

Geralt stepped up to him then leaned even closer, his lips ghosting above his ear as he whispered darkly,

" I want to have that clever mouth on my cock. Then I want to pound your ass until the break of dawn, so hard you won't be able to sit for days. "

Jaskier's cock plumped to half-mast at that. Fuck. His Wolf got the hang of expressing his thoughts during their time spent separated. Oh how he missed Geralt. Not to mention the intense yet still casual fucking they spent many an evening (and some mornings) with before he was offered a position in Beauclair. Being taken by that hard, throbbing cock, hard and fast and just damn possessively, was just something even sharing the bed with the beautiful and quite visceral Dutchess could not compete with.

Clearly the two of them were on the same page. 

Nevertheless he knew how to make their long-awaited sexual reunion even better. 

A proper hunt for pleasure. 

"Very well. You shall have that. Can you see what Her Grace is doing? We don't want to get caught now, do we?" He asked, batting his eyelashes seductively. 

Geralt, as Jaskier presuppose he would, turned away from him to scan the hall and look for Anna Henrietta. He took this chance to bolt to the secret door and quickly passed through, silent and agile as a cat. 

Geralt turned back to reassure the bard about the Dutchess being otherwise engaged, only to find him gone. Vanished. Except for a waft of his cologne, plum and honey with cinnamon and sandalwood, a combination that fired his lust during the stupid banquet whenever he was close to him. 

The fucking minx. 

It was so ON. 

He went into hunter mode in an instant, sneering and sniffing. He was scanning the room with all his senses. His ears did not pick up neither the sweet tenor nor the familiar steps of Jaskier. He could not pinpoint his strong but lithe form and his sapphire and gold attire in the crowd. His scent led him to the wall. What? Oh. Another, more careful look revealed the door. He ripped it open and jumped into the narrow corridor behind. He heard the echoes of unmistakable footsteps ahead.

He growled and leapt forward; however he was hindered by his own musculature; the walls were almost crushing him as he trudged forward, but soon reached the end of the secret passage, the music and the hubbub of the party fading away, giving room to a cacophony of clutter most likely originating from the kitchen and other service areas. He found himself at a small hall, all cold sleet-grey stone, and barely lit with a handful of sconces, a great contrast to the rest of the lavish palace, with stairways leading both up and down. He followed his nose to another, slightly wider passage on the same storey. He picked up his pace. He was glad for not wearing his armour for the first time in a long while as he easily caught up with and, slowing down slightly, sneaked upon the the bard, who was stumbling in the almost pitch-dark corridor, which for him did not pose a challenge, of course, even without downing Cat. 

"Thought you could get away from me?" He whispered, voice dripping with menace as he put a hand on the other man's mouth, silencing the yelp that escaped him, while his other snaked down his body, making Jaskier shudder. 

He debated inwardly about his next course of action while he was ceaselessly drawing mewling noises out of the bard as his right laid claim to Jaskier's skin under his doublet and shirt, the rustling of layers of fabric a titillating melody on its own. The noises of the party were more audible here. Probably servants will come passing by, on their way to and from the kitchen, the pantry or the cellars. But for a few minutes it will be fine, most likely. The thrill was worth a little risk. 

"On your knees. You know what to do, don't you?" he commanded as he leaned with his back against the wall, moving the smaller man with him. 

Jaskier nodded in affirmation. The hold of the witcher slackened. On a whim, Geralt whirled him around, forcing him to look into his eyes, or as much as he could in the blue-gray shadows. "If you don't want...." he breathed, almost apologetic. 

"Oh, but I do." The pure mischief and determination of his tone abated any qualm Geralt may have had. 

Without further ado, Jaskier dropped to his knees, nimble fingers working on buttons and laces to give the weaves and threads of the trousers some respite. Soon enough he was face to face, for the first time ever, with Geralt's penis in its full, erect and dripping glory. Even the smell of it was enticing ; a little earthen and musky with just a hint of animalistic sharpness. He licked his lips, circled a fist around the shaft and dove in.

It was Geralt's turn to repress any wayward groan as he was engulfed by that moist orifice, a quick tongue and eager lips playing on his length, his nerves singing a chorus of hallelujah from it all. He bit into his own bottom lip and enjoyed the exquisite sensations with head thrown back. 

Then he looked down. 

"Fuck Jaskier, you indeed serve me well... So eager.... Ohhhh...fuck I'm gonna...." it was all too much; a stupendously reverent expression glazed over the brunette's visage while he was taking him in with pliant, swollen lips, eyelashes fanning over his laborious cheeks. 

At Geralt's words, Jaskier stopped his loud and filthy blowjob to breathe against the plump saliva-coated glans. 

"Cum then. Spill it on my tongue." 

He started pumping with one hand, his cheeks creating exquisite suction while his tongue never stopped frolicking on the velvet surface. He himself was already rutting against the air, his cock begging for just a tad bit of friction. But he was determined on making his witcher come from his mouth. He had waited long enough for this opportunity. 

He decided to glance up with half-hooded eyes. 

A pair of black pupils ringed with gold met his black-and-blue gaze. 

"Fuck....aaaaargggggh"

Geralt was done for. His orgasm exploded in his core, it's shocks rushing through every fiber in him, his seed spilling out in violent throbs, his hips canting wildly. 

Jaskier gulped down all that was given to him, a tiny drop trickling down from the corner of his mouth as he properly sucked and stroked Geralt through his peak. 

Then he stood up, stretched and told a still dazed Geralt, 

"If you catch me in time, you can have this, too, " he lilted, grinning as he turned his back to Geralt, bent over, then slipped the waist of his breeches just low enough to reveal a palm's breadth of a lingerie of black lace, slit at the middle so his cheeks were covered by the flimsy fabric, but not the valley in between. "If not, I may have to take matters into my own hand. And wouldn't that be just.... Sad?" he claimed coquettishly, then pulled back his clothes and bolted. 

Geralt's head reeled. 

This. Fucking. Menace. 

He knew that Jaskier knew he would not be able to resist the challenge even in the warm haze of his afterglow. He drew three more breaths to clear his head while he put his softening member back to its confines. Then he ran after the cheeky bard....Only to be halted by a flurry of servants in the grey hall, carrying large trays of plates, cutlery, clean and dirty cups, ales and wines in carafes. His way was effectively blocked. Then one of the servants, a haughty middle-aged woman with strong cheekbones and stern gaze stepped up to him and said with a no-nonsense tone, 

"Excuse me, Sir, but guests are not allowed in this area. Please return to the banquet hall. I will show you the way if you are lost." She promptly led him to another corridor, and then turning left, then down another, never losing him from her sight. Geralt did not want to cause trouble, and frankly, what would he had said? That he was about to chase a bard through the castle to fuck him silly when he finally got him? So he followed as graciously as he could muster, remembering the layout of the labyrinth that was the system of the castle's hallways. 

Once he was back to the hall with the other guests, he decided to wait a short while to get back to his hunt. He grabbed a mug of ale to keep his thoughts flying back to the images of Jaskier's mouth sucking him off, gulping down all he'd given him and the beautiful contrast of black lace on white skin presented to his eyes for way too short a time. Obviously to no avail. 

Oh he will take that ass framed by that underwear. Have the bard scream and buckle against him, grinding that lingerie against his own loins. Fuck, his skin prickled at the mere thought. He practically ached for him, his chest and stomach constricting in a curious fashion at the thought of the mischievous man; he did not dwell on the reasons much. (It was lust, clearly.) He downed the last drops of the beverage.

Enough time has passed. 

He scanned the area. No one paid him any attention. He was back at the secret hallways. There was nobody around this time. He quickly navigated across the corridors until he was back at the point he lost Jaskier. His scent still lingered in the air, albeit faintly. He was however very familiar with his smell by now so it was more than enough of a clue for him. 

He leapt up the stairways, taking two stairs in one stride, his pace fast enough to make a human dizzy with all the turns he was forced to take on the way up. Having climbed several storeys, he finally reached the top.

The landing widened into a small hall, lit only by the moonlight from small windows at the top of the walls. The hall had only one door on the other end. He surmised it led to one of the tower rooms. He slowed down, letting himself catch his breath. 

He walked to the door and opened it as silently as possible. 

Then he just stood there, mouth slightly agape as he drank in the vision in front of him. 

The small tower room had a large window, almost floor to ceiling, with multiple small panes occupying most of one wall, and some smaller ones up high on the other three walls. The room had been abandoned as there were some pieces of furniture along the walls, all draped in various rough fabrics for protection. Across from the large window, lit by beams of moonlight as if it was a stage, was a white wooden sofa carpeted with crimson velvet covered by white linens, and atop kneeled Jaskier, with his back to the entrance, naked but for his black lace lingerie, gripping the top frame of the furniture with his left, head thrown back in obvious enjoyment of his right hand's work: pumping a little dark glass plug, with a rhinestone endpiece, into his pink hole, in and out, in and out, wayward spots and rivulets of oil and the sapphire blue jewel on the toy glistening in the dim light. The debauched wet, slurching noises were underscored by the gasps and the occasional low moans of the bard's tenor. 

"Found you." Geralt's throat went dry as a desert. He could not say much more. 

"Ahhh just in time, Wolf. What took you so long?" Jaskier drawled huskily in turn, never ceasing his movements. 

"I was caught by servants... For trespassing....and escorted back to the banquet..." Mesmerized by the scene, he was still having difficulty talking. "Have you... Finished?" 

"No, I haven't... Ahhhh... But I have used all my self-restraint not to, so I would be much obliged if we could - mmmmh - finish this game and you would come here and fuck me senseless, pleeeeease? I mean this little toy is - aaah - wonderful as a placeholder, but no substitute for what my body has been craving. "

Geralt wasted no time. He took himself out of his trousers as he stepped up to Jaskier's delectable bottom, and rasped, 

"Game over." For emphasis he rested his already hard shaft on the black lace, making the brunette shiver. He took the toy from his hand and imitated the bard's previous actions, grinding his groin against him at the same rhythm in the meantime, delighting in how his member dragged on the lace,his other hand haphazardly drawing shapes on the planes and ridges of Jaskier's back. 

With one hand free, Jaskier touched his own cock, but kept it trapped in his lingerie, enjoying the pressure and slight chafe against his swollen and sensitive member as his fingers teased himself. 

"Hmmmm, was this inside you the whole evening?" Geralt referred to the plug, driving it into the man forcefully, with a sudden change of angle, hitting his sweet spot. 

"Aaaahn yess... fuck.. . Your cock, Geralt, by the gods, it feels even bigger than I remembered... but - aaaaggnh, yesss, just there, that's the spot .... no, that would have been uncomfortable; just the last set. It was difficult enough to do that, plus running with this inside.... Not a walk in the park, suffice it to say.... but it was worth it, "

"You know, you should be punished for your insolence....Riling me up all evening, making me chase you around.... Maybe I should not be giving you what you so desperately want, to teach you a lesson..." he took a step back to see how the bard would react, his left parting from goosebumpy skin, his right stopping as well. He used this opportunity to divest himself of his clothes, throwing them next to the neat pile of Jaskiers' right next to the sofa. 

" No, please Geralt, fuck, I need it.... I've been literally dreaming about it, the way you take me, how you feel inside of me..." Jaskier's voice hitched; it was bordering on frightened as he begged, his hips moving against the plug, fucking himself on it eagerly.

Geralt loved it. He had of course no intention to not give him what they both wanted. Not after an excruciating evening of longing. Or rather, a long, long winter thereof... 

"Since you begged so nicely", he said in a kind tone as he repositioned himself, taking the toy out carefully, dropping it on the seat and replacing it with his cock, teasing the entrance with the head for now. "And you did get me off with that talented mouth of yours... So you shall have it." 

"Oh fuck, thank you...." 

"But I meant what I said earlier: I shall pound this pretty ass of yours until the break of dawn." His voice has grown dark and menacing anew. 

"Are you threatening me with a good time, witcher?" 

"Hmmmm. We should revisit that statement when I am through with you. Where's the oil?" 

"Inside the plug. Screw it open at the end."

"Clever", Geralt stated appreciatively and grabbed the toy again, and did as was told. He slickened his shaft, fast yet thoroughly, then slid home in one swift motion. Jaskier keened at the sudden but most welcome intrusion. Geralt could not help gasping either; yet he kept his cool, leaned forward, his nerve endings rejoicing from the contact with the other man's warm back. He whispered with the same menacing tone to his left ear, "You are allowed to come now, but only once. You won't be granted relief afterwards until the sun appears on the horizon. No matter how much or how sweetly you beg." 

Without further warning, he clamped down on a round shoulder with lips and teeth, the arousing taste of Jaskier flooding his tastebuds, salty like the sea and sweet as wine. He grabbed the top frame of the sofa with his left, right next to where Jaskier's knuckles were going white with how strong he held on. Then Geralt began thrusting, pulling almost completely out, slow, then ramming back hard and fast. He grabbed Jaskier's cock with his oily right, stroking it inside his lingerie with fury, thumbing the frenulum and the slit on his upstrokes. It took about five of his thrusts to make the other man fall apart, who had been steadily going mad from the pain-edged pleasure of being taken by cock and mouth (just like he'd imagined all day he would be), blanketed by the witcher's hot, strong and furry body, his long hair tickling and caressing his upper arm and shoulder. He shout out in a final, desperate 

"Yesss yesss fuck yesssssss.....", as he reached his peak, his insides spasming violently, seed spurting out high, making a sticky mess of him from groin to chest. 

Geralt, however, neither followed him to rapture nor did he pull out. Not even when the bard whimpered from the overstimulation. He kissed his shoulder in parting and straightened his back, both his hands sliding towards Jaskier's ass, fingertips massaging his back and buttocks gently, soothing. He was merciful enough to not move, although that required quite a bit of effort on his part. However, the cheeky bard seemed quite eager for more and after only a little while, he turned his head back to look Geralt in the eye and said, 

"Fuck me, then, like you mean it." 

So Geralt did just that. He fucked him slow and steady, then fast and forceful, then slow and deep again, spending inside of Jaskier with a series of incoherent grunts. He still did not pull out but continued their coupling, making a necklace of purple-red bruises on the absolute delicacy that was the brunette's now sweat-soaked skin, while holding the smaller man upright, tight against his chest, the bard holding on to his arms for dear life. He fucked him still relentlessly, squeezing the base of Jaskier's cock and stopping his pistoning only at times when he felt his partner's orgasm approach. Then when he stopped his whimpering and cursing, Geralt fucked him some more, only pulling out to paint white stripes on the black lace as he climaxed for the third time. Jaskier looked back in askance, only to be truly horrified at the sight of a still erect witcher cock resting in his valley between his buttocks (a valley of plenty semen, he noted with the last remnants of his wit). 

"Still having a good time?" Geralt smirked. His voice was just a tad bit shaky, plus he hardly broke a sweat, Jaskier had to note. He wanted to rest or rather, orgasm and then rest, but his reckless, mischievous persona would not have him give up, especially not when it was about sex. 

"Give me two minutes and I'll be fine. And could we lie down? 'Cause my legs are about to give in." He uttered, panting heavily as he propped himself on his forearm, knees bent, not daring to sit down. 

"On the floor?" 

"Sure. Wherever. Put this sheet down after I wipe myself off a little, if you'd be ever so kind", requested, ever so cocky. After getting rid of most of the bodily fluids stuck to his skin, he handed the sheet to Geralt who did see through the bard's bravado, yet said nothing. He seemed and smelled well enough, no injuries aside from the markings on his upper body (oh and what a smell he had, he noted only to himself, marked through and through with his own, seed and sweat and saliva over his sweet arousal-colored base scent.... It was nothing short of intoxicating.) 

Geralt pulled off a couple other sheets from the furniture in the room, making the floor a little more inviting and fit for the remainder of the night's activities. Then Jaskier made a show of taking off his perfectly ruined lingerie and lied down on his stomach on the heaps of fabric. 

"Until dawn, then." He teased, and parted his ass cheeks, baring his drenched, swollen-red entrance with long fingers digging into his own flesh accentuated by the moonlight.

Geralt licked his lips and was on him in an instant, plowing the well-used hole with the same vehemence as previously. He was surprised by his own ravenous need, but welcomed and embraced it, licking and nibbling on Jaskier's neck as he lied atop him, careful not to crush the human, putting his weight on elbows and knees, the man moaning sweetly under him as they moved in a tandem. Geralt set the pace, alternating between sensuous rolls of hips, going deep and faster, smaller thrusts making a wet clapping sound join the singing that was Jaskier's aaaahs and ooooohs and hummmmmms.

The witcher came once more inside of him, thrusting and shooting up to what almost felt like was the bard's throat, with a low howl that resonated in Jaskier's spine, almost making him come. 

However Geralt didn't let him. He was sobbing and keening, yet he was not granted mercy. A hair's breadth from the edge, and yet he was pulled and kept back from spiraling down that coveted precipice, like a dog on a leash. 

After he was deemed far enough from his peak again, Geralt (Sweet Melitele, how was it possible?) continued destroying him, his still hard length again slamming home, the witcher mumbling "So good, so fucking gooood, tight and wet and sweet and gorgeous.... Perfect.... Mine..." he went on, babbling sweet nothings without thought. 

Jaskier was quite overwhelmed from it all, his backside numb from the ceaseless pounding, his channel stretched, seed and oil dripping from his hole, his upper body on fire from the intimate attention lavished upon it like never before, and then hearing those words... Spilling from the mouth of his... Friend? Lover... His one love, his brain ultimately supplied. His eyes went wide as his heart sunk. 

Fuck! 

Fuck! 

That is not how it was supposed to go down, he berated himself. Stupid heart, we have talked about this many a time. We would have our fun and that would be it. No falling in love. Not with Him. 

"You all right there, swee-- Jaskier? You tensed up." Geralt cursed inwardly. Fuck, he almost called the bard sweetness. What was wrong with him? 

" Just... so close.... " He lied through his fucking teeth, on the verge of panic. He was exhausted, nerves frail, heart hollow. And yes, his balls were ready to bust, if he really thought about it, so maybe it wasn't such a big lie after all. 

"Okay..." Geralt stopped. He looked out the window. The silver- and blue-adorned darkness of the night was slowly shifting to the ephemeral gray hues heralding the break of dawn. 

"Up." Geralt barked. 

"You can't be serious." Jaskier wanted to say, but all he managed was a whimper. A very protesting one. 

"Allright, I got you. Hold on." 

Geralt pulled out, then gathered the man up, bringing him to the window. The ledge was just the right height for the fucked-out bard to kneel on, the bulk of his lover supporting from behind, his own right arm snaking up and bent at the elbow, enabling his hand to hold onto the nape of Geralt's neck, his left grabbing a stone-hard thigh to keep him upright. 

The witcher straightened an arm to test the strength of the window. Both the panes and the frame held his weight, didn't even budge. Satisfied, he leaned forward, pushing Jaskier's chest against the cold panes. He shrieked, but stayed there all the same, the cold on his overheated chest a welcome relief and a titillating contrast for his electrified nerves. 

"Look Jaskier."

Jaskier opened his eyes. (When did he close them? He had no recollection.)At their feet lay half the castle, its courtyard, the city and the surrounding fields and vineyards of Toussaint, shrouded in the half-dark, still black and white when viewed with human eyes. And on the horizon, a tinge of pink and orange.

Geralt took him again from behind, now gentle and almost reverently kind. Jaskier sighed, his lips remaining slack, mouth slightly agape. 

"You were so good, cheeky bard, taking your punishment so well.... So when the Sun appears, you may show half of Beauclair how the White Wolf made you feel. Let them all who care to watch see you come writhing on my cock, my hands on your lovely prick, making you spill...." he circled his fist around Jaskier's straining, dripping penis, stroking it slowly yet playfully, varying the pressure he applied to the velvety surface, as if the man had become his instrument. 

"Oh fuck Geralt... What... Oh my your language.... Yes... Let them... See..." Jaskier had barely enough strength to keep himself upright, even with support. He still managed to cant his hips for more friction. 

"Just a little longer...." 

"Ohh fuuuuuuuhhhhh, can't... Oh sweet wolf let me.... Please...Aaaagh...." he was indeed writhing on Geralt's cock, his impending orgasm coiling every muscle and tendon and organ in his wrecked body. 

Finally, a glowing slice of a red disk appeared amidst the pink haze. 

"Come." 

And Jaskier did.

No, he didn't.

He burst, like a thousand star exploding, his vision going white, his very being convulsing, enraptured, seed staining the window and his own torso and Geralt's hand and fuck, was that Geralt shouting and spilling and shaking inside him? 

And who screamed? 

Oh. Oh. Right. That was he himself. 

After an infinite stretch of time, the sensations subsided into a gentle zing. 

They both dropped to the floor, completely exhausted.

Somehow they ended up face to face. 

Their gazes locked. 

Both licked their slack, dry lips.

Jaskier leaned forward. He felt Geralt's humid breath tickling his face. 

He felt a hand tangling into his locks, pulling him even closer. 

So... Close.... 

Then, a surprised shriek. 

A door slammed shut. 

They flew apart, looking at the door that was still rattling on its hinges. 

Their gazes met again. 

"Fuck! " They exclaimed in unison. 

They were caught. 


	4. Of True Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Angst! Awkwardness! And more smut!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a Christmas present please accept the final chapter of this fic. It took me for ever to figure out (plus [Un]Matched Light, my Christmas Modern AU fic happened and I got distracted lol) but I hope it's satisfactory.  
> Well, this was supposed to be a short fun PWP. And yet, here we are. Again. 
> 
> I also have an alternate ending planned. Guesses as to what it may be can be made in the comments. :)  
> Merry Christmas, lovelies!

Jaskier was still dazed when Geralt's brain switched into fight or flight mode; which was about one second after the last echoes from the rattling door died down.

"How much time do you think we have?" Geralt asked, jumping to his feet. He strode to the pile of their clothes by the sofa, his lover's gaze inadvertently following his still stark naked form, which was wonderfulky framed by the first golden rays of the rising sun. Jaskier was quite entranced. He shook his head ; this was not the time to gawk uselessly. 

"For what?" 

"Until whoever found us in flagranti gets the news to Anna Henrietta." 

"Yeah... That.... "He scratched his head, pensive, then grabbed a sheet from the floor and started wiping off the sweat and other fluids off his upper body." Well, after these banquets she tends to sleep in and the orders are that no one disturbs her until midday. So a couple hours at least, I would say." 

"Good. Then let me." He stood in front of the bard, clothes on his left arm. 

"What do you want?" The question slipped out without a second thought. The bard sighed inwardly - this had become his slogan, it seemed, when it came to prodding Geralt for proper phrasing of his thoughts.. 

"Take care of... " he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking everywhere before his gaze settled on Jaskier's groin. 

"Oh." Jaskier suddenly became very aware of the burning pain and the sticky wetness that was the result of the ample and thorough 'punishment' he'd been given by the witcher. 

"Turn around." 

Jaskier lay on his stomach. Geralt kneeled next to him, putting down their garments and took the sheet from his lover. With gentle fingers, as if inspecting a precious artefact, he skimmed the man's back, from the bite marks decorating his nape and back, traveling down to his abused bottom. He smiled as a trail of goosebumps blossomed under his touch, the bard emitting what sounded as a pleased sigh. "The... marks will need tending to later." He said apologetically, wiping him off carefully, feather-light with his movements. Then he finally gathered his courage to inspect the place he ravaged while finding their pleasure. His heart sunk and his stomach flipped; the acidic sourness of disgust washed over him." Your..." 

"My ass? Does it look as bad as it feels?" 

"Fuck. Jaskier. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't..." 

" No." He cut him off sternly, then twisted his back and neck to look straight into his eyes." Don't you dare do that. I let you destroy me with your big, thick cock because I wanted it; in fact, begged for it. Besides, I could have said no or made you stop any time. Right? "

"Right..." came Geralt's half-hesitant answer. He was not sure he could have stopped, not with how far rational thought had gone from him; how far Jaskier and his naughty little game chased it from him. But he did not have to know that. 

"So go ahead and clean it and I'll let you take care of me properly when we are far from my gorgeous, powerful, and most likely immensely jealous ex-lover." With that, he dropped his head back and wiggled his sore backside to emphasize his point. Which, of course, resulted in even more of the pearly white fluid oozing out of his loosened and abused entrance. The possessive animalistic persona of Geralt howled at him to just bend down and lick it all up, taste his own seed mixed with the most secret flavors of his bard, his tongue tingling with the desire for that debauched, and surely heavenly aroma....

He pushed those thoughts down, scrapped his tastebuds on his upper teeth to alleviate his craving, then used the cleanest parts of the fabric to clean up what he could, with almost hesitantly light swipes over the sorest parts of the other's bottom. It will definitely need more care, and lots of healing salve, he winced as he worked, still berating himself, albeit silently, for his violent behavior. He hurt him in his lust-hazed craze, the one man who treated him like...Like a friend. A lover. No, he corrected himself, his lover. His heart skipped a beat, a fond smile spreading over his whole countenance. Jaskier was simply yet undeniably his. He recalled the moments after their shattering orgasms, the curious shine in Jaskier's impossibly blue orbs, the silk of his messy locks and the weight of his skull against his fingers, his mouth beckoning him, coalescing to cross that final boundary once and for all, to leap into the unfamiliar territory of... What exactly? His mind supplied him with labels that his heart was reluctant to apply. 

Well whatever could have happened, didn't. The moment flew away, leaving them in the swamp of awkwardness. 

Not to mention peril. He dragged his mind back to the present, to their conversation as he finished his ministrations for the time being. They got dressed without any additional comments from either of them. 

"Hmmm. When you said jealous, just exactly how jealous are we talking about?" 

"Banishing me from Toussaint for life - levels. At least. Quite possibly incarceration is on the the table as well... 

" Fuck. "

" Yeah. That got me in this place again, didn't it." He smiled bitterly, but a voice screamed inside : IT WAS SO FUCKING WORTH IT! Not just the otherworldly sex, but what came after, that almost-kiss, Geralt's unprecedented comforting... He was falling harder and harder at every kind word and sweet gesture of the witcher. 

" I presume you have packed up previously?" 

"Yes, well.... Mostly. I did leave a set of clothes and some other knickknacks in Anarietta's chambers but I suppose I could go without. Oh and my lute is most likely at my quarters, but we can only be certain of that once we get there. Is Roach stabled at the castle or elsewhere in town? "

" She is just outside the castle. Along with my packs, weapons and armor. It has all been taken care of, money-wise too. "

" It sounds like as if you have been expecting a hasty farewell. "

"I have to account for such when it comes to you, swee... Jaskier." 

Fuck. His tongue slipped again.

Jaskier pretended not to notice; he was busy grabbing the glass toy and pocketing it so it was easy for the witcher to hide his confused smile. The bard rearranged the sheets over the furniture, mostly. He looked out the window to see how far the sun had climbed up the sky. His face contorted into an abhorred grimace. In a matter of seconds, however, he just burst out laughing. "Now this gives a whole new meaning to stained glass," he wheezed, pointing at the object in question. 

Geralt looked as well. "It most certainly does", he chuckled deeply. The panes were covered in large spots of sweat, streaks of come with patches of condensation added for good measure. "I'll get it," he offered sheepishly, and strode there to clean up their mess, secretly delighting at the lingering smells of their previous activities. " Go check the hallway and the stairs, please." 

Jaskier did just that. The coast was clear. He signaled to Geralt who threw the piece of fabric in his hand into a corner then followed Jaskier. 

They left the room, sneaked down the hallway and were about to descend the stairs when Jaskier stopped. 

" Ow... Owowowwww. Fuck", he tried taking another step. He hissed but persevered. One step at a time...easy.... He told himself as he moved his shaky, tired limbs, slow as a snail. Everything hurt. 

Geralt did not hesitate. With a grunt, he swept him off his feet, quite literally, positioning him in a bridal carry. Jaskier instinctively held onto his neck, half shocked, half delighted at the gesture, gawking at the witcher. He felt stupidly safe in those arms, huddled against that massive chest, his nose full of Geralt's musky scent. 

"It would take forever with your exhaustion and soreness. We need to be quick", Geralt supplied matter-of-factly. "Navigate me to your chambers then we shall be on our way out." 

The castle was fortunately empty, everyone in drunken, exhausted slumber, only the muffled echoes of a few, far-away footsteps (besides Geralt's own) ricocheted off the walls and stairs, so they had no trouble getting Jaskier's pack. He put away a couple last minute items, checked his purse and money bags, slinged his lute (which was indeed taken to his room by his colleague, thank the gods) on his shoulder and was ready to go. Geralt grabbed his pack, then picked him up again. He held onto his lute as they strode out the castle, the witcher with the bard in his arms. They were both weirdly content with their situation, an eerie giddiness bubbling up in their throats. Jaskier already knew he was so much in love that his heart almost burst with it. Geralt, well, he would describe what he felt as warm and fuzzy inside, but decided he actually liked it, just as much as he liked how his beautiful bard fit snugly into his embrace.

The following days were spent in what Jaskier would dub as perfect, utter and deeply uncomfortable silence, for the most part. The rush and excitement of their escape faded fast into fatigue and soreness. Geralt led Roach, who was carrying their possessions, by the bridle, dictating a mean tempo for the exhausted bard on his side. Jaskier wanted nothing but a good sleep and perhaps the opportunity to properly wash the smelly and sticky evidence of the eventful banquet and the following hours of salacious activities off his itching body. That was the two things he could think of, beside putting one foot after the other and maybe not stumbling across the first piece of rock on the road. So really it wasn't a surprise he was sullen and disgruntled.

Geralt did not fare any better; physically, he was far from reaching his limit, the maelstrom in his head and heart was, however, hardly a subject of envy. He was calculating their route of escape, accounting for their sorry state, while the cloud of odors wafting off Jaskier triggered very recent memories, with a side of even more recently surfaced emotions. Seeing Jaskier's broken gait, bordering on limping, put the proverbial cherry on top, guilt lugging his every thought, clawing at the words he wished to utter, stopping the hand he ached to reach out to him in consolation? Adoration? Commiseration? Whichever. He had no right to do any, his monstrous act born of selfish lust proclaimed him Jaskier's attacker, no matter how the bard insisted on him wanting it. No one in their right mind would. 

So they trudged on, exchanging nothing but grunts and stolen looks. 

Their silence made them more aware of the sounds surrounding them. 

Hooves stomping the hard ground in a steady rhythm. 

Tweets of birds, buzzing of insects, joyous with the onset of spring, the promise of life.

Swift winds whispering about melting winter ice. 

There was a song about that, Jaskier realized and promptly started humming it, the simple, sweeping melody rising and falling boldly, with inflections just ornate enough to embellish but not overpower it. He dared not sing the lyrics for that would have been too much for his tender heart just now; singing of mates chosen by (love)birds and such, oh there was no way he would not choke on those words. Nevertheless, the act of making music made him feel more at peace. The other man made no remark; he decided it was probably for the best. Yet some part of him nagged that even a negative comment could be a starting point for much-needed conversation. 

They have finally made camp by a brook mid-afternoon, at a safe distance from the road, concealed from any potential pursuers by an overgrown thicket and some hefty boulders. Still they restricted their conversations to those of practical nature. There were plenty of charged, longing looks and occasional incidental touches exchanged, which were just long enough to be nerve-wracking.

Having eaten and sitting by the campfire, Jaskier was already dozing off, so Geralt finally spoke up. 

"You should rest. I will keep watch."

"I should probably clean up first." 

"I will help you with that. Go lie down. I will take care of you as I promised." Jaskier emitted a sound of protest but Geralt hushed him, accompanied by a frown. 

"Shush, bard. I injured you, I am making it better." 

Jaskier had no further objections. He took off his doublet and trousers and lay on his stomach on top of his bed roll. He was half asleep by the time Geralt kneeled at his side, with warm water, soap, some cleaning rags and healing salves within a hand's reach. 

"Let's take your clothes off."

Limbs heavy and sore, mind hazy, the bard had no objections and together they managed to slowly strip him off every piece of clothing. Gentle but effective in his movements, as always, the witcher wiped off his body, from head to toe. Geralt was cold and composed on the outside, yet inside he was about to burst and he fervently hoped the tremors of his hand went unnoticed. Jaskier smelled, for one, of him still, as if his skin absorbed his very essence, which was not very far from the truth, considering. For two, during the process his smell changed; it blossomed into a wonderful warm, light and delicious aroma that had little to do with the simple lavender soap. And he was right under him, sprawled out in all his naked, masculine glory, relaxing into his touch as his hands traveled every plane, curve and divot, every patch and thicket of soft hair.

"You're beautiful." It rolled out his lips, quiet and reverent. His hands stopped, muscles tensing up. Shit. That was... uncalled for. 

"Mmmmh thanks... you are not so bad-looking either", came the slurred, sleepy reply from Jaskier who didn't even lift his head up to answer. 

Geralt smiled and relaxed. 

"Stay awake for just another minute. I 'll apply the salve to your bottom." 

"You could do that with me sleeping. I trust you." 

Those three words went straight to Geralt's heart. Nevertheless, he kept silent as he administered the salve to the bard's back, then to his abused, swollen pucker, making him moan and whimper in discomfort.

"Sorry. I have to get it inside too... Just relax." 

Jaskier was actually squirming half from pain half from pleasure. He couldn't decide if he wished to curse or exult his body and its slutty tendencies. He was aware of his injuries and the burn and yet.... And yet he yearned for Geralt's touch, for him to keep touching and caressing and just do as he pleased, knowing he would be safe. 

"Go ahead", he whimpered. 

The witcher's index breached his opening, slow and careful and salve-slick. And his traitorous hips moved against it. He willed his muscles to still at once and hoped Geralt would not comment. 

He didn't. He was too dumbstruck for that. He bit into his lips as his cock gave an "I like where this is going" sign. He had half a mind to scream at the darned body part. It was clearly nothing. No need to jump to conclusions like Jaskier desired him even half-asleep and injured. 

He withdrew the digit, swiped his hand with another cloth, then helped Jaskier in dressing up for the night, and even tucked him in. He smiled at the seemingly already unconscious man and breathed a "sleep well" as he caressed his brow, sweeping some wayward locks of his silk-soft hair out of his face. To his surprise, Jaskier grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it, muttering

"Thank you, darling." 

"Hmmmm." 

He let go at that, smiling as he curled up to sleep. 

Soon, he was breathing evenly, and the witcher kept watch just as promised. 

Night fell on them, and the air grew cold. Geralt noticed that Jaskier was shivering even while covered up to the nose in all their blankets. That won't do, he thought and crossed the distance between them to snuggle up with him to chase the chill of the night away. His bed partner muttered a weak "thanks" after Geralt wordlessly slid next to him, spooning him, with arms wrapped around his torso, creating a warm cocoon for his friend to sleep in, safe and sound. He couldn't help noticing the relief that instantly washed over Jaskier, making him melt against his form. Both of them enjoyed the intimacy of this situation, but neither of them had the strength or courage to admit to it. 

They have spent the following week in similar fashion, brooding and pining silently, both unsure about how to address the matter, yet sleeping entwined around each other, exhausted from the toll of the days spent trekking, although the bard would rather call it running. Then to Jaskier's great relief, on a blessed sunshiny day Geralt deemed themselves to be safe, or at least safe enough to get a room at an inn. 

By this point in their journey, the bard was ready to end this existence in a limbo. He had come to the conclusion, after much trepidation, that he did not even care if Geralt would break his heart with a possible rejection. He yearned for him desperately, like the scorched earth for a drop of rain, like the frozen trees for the first warm breeze of spring like.... Like a bard who accompanied, befriended and then repeatedly was taken to the pinnacles of pleasure by a lonesome, brooding, ferocious yet kind-hearted witcher. 

So it came to pass that their first night in civilization found him lying on their shared bed, stark naked, lute in hand, strumming idly to calm himself. He had taken a bath in the common washroom, with the witcher following suit, so he lit a fire in their small hearth and waited for him to walk through that battered, creaky door. 

Just when he was about to grow impatient, the door opened and a half-naked Geralt walked through it, with rivulets of water cascading from the tips of his wet silver hair to the low waistline of his black linen trousers. Jaskier gulped at the sight, throat tight with his repressed desire to crash and splinter against him like planks on a reef. Geralt stopped in his tracks as well the moment he took in the lithe, flame-painted form of his clotheless bard, shadows dancing on his curves and angles, his ocean eyes refracting the orange flames like two jewels. Their gazes met, and if they had been under a spell, could not part from one another. Mesmerized, the witcher was lured to the bed from the sight and the sweet, warm fragrance emanating from his tempting, beautiful body, clouding his senses. The tension reached new heights with each step that brought them closer and closer. 

Finally, Geralt loomed over Jaskier, took the lute from his lap and put it on the end table, maintaining his composure on the outside. The naked man whispered:

"What do you want?" 

The White Wolf slightly trembled as he climbed into the bed and on Jaskier's lap, putting most of his weight on his knees on either side of him. It was the bard's turn to shiver as the witcher rasped the one correct answer to the question: 

"You." 

A raging storm of lips and tongues, complete with fingers pulling on hair broke out. Amidst the fevered kisses, Geralt rambled on, "I want your everything, Jaskier... I want that mischievous glint in your ocean eyes. I want that annoying, cheeky sneer of your mouth... I want the songs and tales your mind weaves. I want the excessive gestures of your hand.... I want the roll of your hips. The gasps of your extasy. I want... Fuck, I want it all so bad. "

" Sssh. Dear, you can have me, have all that and more. You just had to say so. "

"Fuck, Jaskier.... Sweetness... Would you... Do you..." Geralt was overwhelmed already, words eluding him as they kissed and gasped and frotted against each other. 

" Yes, I want you too. Want it all. Give it to me, dear. Give me all, please." His voice was just as desperate as Geralt's. 

"Can you... Take it all?" 

"Most definitely", he stated with great conviction, then wiggled himself out from under a surprised Geralt who let him, although he had no idea why his beautiful lover would leave him just now.

He soon found out as Jaskier went down to all fours, his customary position. He arched his back while bending his arms at the elbow, presenting his mouthwatering, firm globes for Geralt, swaying them in invitation. 

Geralt shook his head and smiled bitterly while he got rid of his now quite offending trousers. Of course the bard would think he still wanted to fuck him that way, animalistic, impersonal, rough. However it could not have been further from the truth. He kneeled behind him nonetheless, in order to show him the extent of his desire, aligning his manhood, which was hot, heavy and already leaking at the slit, with his cleft. He himself nearly groaned at the sight and the sensation of their near-conjoined loins, but restrained himself a little longer. His hand gingerly touched his lover's sides at the waist, calloused fingers frightened to bruise, and he uttered a firm "No."

"What? You... You don't want to fuck me?" A bewildered Jaskier stared back at him over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed quizzically. 

"No. I want to make love to you, Jaskier. And I wish to look you in the eye, to kiss your lips, among other things, while we do that", he elaborated, smiling, and he urged his lover to shift and get back to their starting position with gestures so light they were just a bit more than a caress. 

"I certainly have no objections to that. How do you want me, then?" His voice was mischievous, masking how he was shaken to the very fundaments of his soul by all that was said and done to him. 

"I want you to ride me, sweetness. Take your pleasure from me at your own pace."

"Oh I shall. I have always done that, though, whatever you may have told yourself, silly, brooding witcher. Now, get me ready for you, darling." 

Geralt slid down, his mouth never leaving the trembling, hot body under him, licking and nipping on his way to his goal. He didn't waste much time; he took Jaskier's hardness in hand, and after a few deliberate strokes, just as the bard canted his hips for more, he took him into his mouth, going almost all the way to the balls, then back up until just the head remained enclosed within his damp and wet orifice, and sucked. 

"Oh fuck.... Hahhhhhn. Okay that was not fair. You should warn a guy before.... Ooooh yesss keep going.... " Jaskier babbled on, entranced and lost to the sensations on his cock. Geralt worked him vehemently, his ears delighting in the nonsense spewing from the throat of the man he was determined to take to heaven. He alternated between sliding up and down with his mouth, his tongue fluttering on the velvet surface and taking the shaft in his left as he licked various patterns on it, making sure to press down on the most sensitive spots, earning him more enraptured moans from his lover. 

Jaskier was bewildered ; soon, he could not bear it anymore. 

"Sweet heavens Geralt, get on with it, please, I want your fingers in me, I beg of you.....

"Hmmm I love it when you beg so nicely. Very well, sweetness. Give me the salve from the drawer." 

Jaskier obliged with great haste, passing the little tin box to Geralt then shamelessly spread his legs wide for him. On a whim, began stroking himself while playing with his balls and his taint. The witcher, as much as he enjoyed the little show, would have none of that. He batted his hands away with a sneering "Mine." A laugh bubbled up Jaskier's throat in response. It soon turned into whimpers, because Geralt did listen to and acted in accordance with his pleas; his mouth continued playing in and around him something wicked, while waxily shining fingers filled and stretched his opening, slow and almost hesitant. 

"Geralt... Please, I won't break. Don't be shy. Do it harder." 

Hearing that, he rose up to his elbows, popping off of Jaskier's now dark and glistening cock, his fingers never ceasing in their work, looking the man in the eye sternly and replying :

"No. I have to make sure I don't hurt you. I can't stand to see you suffer, especially not because of me. Never again." 

"Just promise me you will pick up the pace once your cock is in me." 

The witcher chuckled at that. "Sweetness it's still me. You should know by now how you make me go wild with lust the moment you envelope me with your heat." 

"Good." Jaskier preened. He pushed against the intruding digits, fucking himself on them. Still, it was just not enough. 

"Mmmh want more. Now." 

Geralt deemed him ready for his girth. He shifted position to sat with his back against a pillow and the headboard, slicked himself up quickly before guiding Jaskier onto his lap, having him straddling him. 

"Take your pleasure, sweetness", he rumbled low, making Jaskier's bone vibrate most deliciously. The bard collided against him, lips to lips, as if he wanted to steal his voice with his delirious kisses. Then he broke away, only to touch his forehead against Geralt's, staring into his amber eyes, radiating love and passion. They stilled, savoring the moment of anticipation, their breath mingling. Slow and sweet, Jaskier lowered himself onto Geralt's erection, making both of them gasp. The witcher claimed his lips again, gossamer-light, tentative, loving. He answered in kind, deepening the kiss gradually as he waited for the delicious burn of their joining to subside and the amazing sense of fulfillment in every sense to unfold and overcome him. 

"You are incredible" he whispered and started moving, achingly slow. 

They fell into perfect sync within moments, rocking and undulating against the other with gradually increasing pace, then quieting again, a sensual respite, but never going still. Hands went roaming, first caressing then growing frantic and hungry, finding rest only when their coupling had become a wild, erratic, spasming riot, Geralt's large ones holding Jaskier at his flanks,aiding his movements with his superhuman strength, Jaskier's long fingers entwined in silver locks, elbows resting on top of the other man's shoulders.

"Touch me, " Jaskier breathed between moans as he felt his peak nearing, his entire body tense and boiling with raw heat. 

Geralt took his length in hand, working him with powerful strokes, thumbing at his slit, insistent. 

"Fuck Geralt yes yes yes so good.... Geralt, love, yes take me there...." He was not even aware what he said, Geralt certainly noticed that one little endearment and it made him bold enough to say it in kind:

"Let go, love. Scream for me." 

And that was that. His orgasm ripped a scream out of Jaskier's throat, his cock spurting his hot seed on both of their chests while his nerves went wild with pleasure. 

Geralt followed him soon, his teeth finding the base of Jaskier's neck, biting and sucking in the salty skin blindly and blissed out while he pumped his essence into his lover. 

Long after the last tremors had faded, they remained joined, messy with sweat and saliva and seed but sated and happy. They kissed again, light and playful, never getting enough. 

"Maybe we should..." Jaskier tried tentatively. 

"No." 

"Need.... Sleep... Love...." he whimpered in the vice-like embrace of the witcher, who was still showering him with pecks and nips to any place he could find. 

"Mmmh okay. Just promise me you will be by my side in the morning, calling me that." 

"I will, if that's what you want." 

"That's all I will ever want."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated.


End file.
